


Body and Soul

by supernutjapan



Series: The Boy in the Mirror [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Master/Slave, Other, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernutjapan/pseuds/supernutjapan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester are picked up by a travelling circus while they are very young. The circus is a very dangerous place for two young boys and Dean must give up a part of himself in order to protect his brother.</p><p>Timed a few months before The Boy in the Mirror - There is a new addition to the circus and Sam and Dean both find themselves with new responsibilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters Sam and Dean Winchester. They belong solely to the creators of the TV show Supernatural.
> 
> My love to siennavie who created the artwork that inspired the story (http://siennavie.livejournal.com/35547.html ) and created the beautiful banner and dividers, saltandburnboys who beta-ed it thoroughly and wind_storms for her encouragement and advice.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Dean stopped in his tracks on his way to the cafeteria to follow the unfamiliar sound. It led him to a space between a couple of sleeper cars, where he found what looked to be a new addition to the circus - a knife thrower. 

The man was getting his knives ready for another round and Dean waited to watch him throw. He looked weathered and grey, but well-built and fit. His tanned, freckled arms muscular and thick. His face was full of wrinkles in all the right places, and Dean guessed he used to be pretty good looking in his youth.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

The knives hit the points of the star on the target with complete accuracy. As Dean stood impressed, he felt a hand grab onto the bottom hem of his T-shirt and glanced down to see his brother. 

"Wow!" Sam exclaimed next to him. "Is that our new knife thrower?" he whispered. "He's so cool!" Dean grinned and ruffled Sam's hair. His recent growth spurt these last couple of weeks made it seem like Sam had shrunk, when really Sam'd grown quite a bit himself. 

The knife thrower glanced their way then, and, smiling good-naturedly, started walking toward them. "Howdy!" he said, tipping his cowboy hat at them. "Name's Grange. You boys feel like having a go? I could use an assistant." 

And then Grange straightened, his eyes trained on something behind Dean. Dean felt a shadow block out the warm sun suddenly, and his back turned cold. He knew the Master was right behind him - so close that Dean could almost feel the little fibers of the Master's pants brushing up against his jeans. Dean tightened his hand into a fist and gritted his teeth as the blood drained from his face.

"That would be an excellent idea. I'm sure Sam would make a great assistant. Why don't you give it a try, Sammy?" the Master's strong, deep voice rumbled, and Dean felt bile rise in his throat at the man calling Sam by his own pet name for his brother. "Dean here is a bit too busy with other duties to be assistant knife thrower. Aren't you, boy?"

"Yes, sir." Dean and Sam answered in unison - Sam's excitement covering Dean's strangled voice. Sam ran up to Grange with shining eyes.

As Dean watched Grange take Sam closer to the target and explain how to throw the knives, the Master's hand dropped heavily onto his shoulder and his legs bumped against Dean's. Suddenly, Dean was back in the Master's trailer the night before, feeling the Master's hand and wet tongue on his traitorous dick. Hearing the Master laugh and tell him what a slut he was. Feeling those fat fingers trace cold lube all over and around his asshole, prodding and digging, scissoring and pounding. The burning pain gradually giving over to building need...then a sudden emptiness and the promise of more later.

Dean closed his eyes and took a shaky breath to try and calm himself down.  
"Of course," the Master said matter-of-factly, "if you ever tried something like that, you’re such a clumsy son-of-a-bitch, you'd probably end up knifing your own brother by mistake." He laughed softly and Dean was sure the man knew exactly what Dean was thinking about. The Master leaned down then so his lips brushed Dean's ear, and whispered, "I'll see you later, boy," before walking off, leaving Dean with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. 

When he next looked up, Dean saw that Grange had turned to watch the Master walk away with such a deep scowl that Dean was sure could have killed the Master on the spot if looks could kill. A second later, he was looking back at Dean with a warm smile. "Your name is Dean?" 

"Yes, Sir," Dean answered quickly, trying to compose his face.

"You come and have a try too."

"Um..." Dean glanced fearfully in the direction the Master had left and said hurriedly, "That's okay, sir. I'm sure I'm not suited for this kind of thing. And, ah…I have a job with the clown show anyway."

He watched Grange amble over and crouch down, his hand on his knee. Grange bowed for a second before raising his face and directing his clear blue eyes at Dean's green. "You’re insulting my teaching skills if you refuse, Dean. Come and keep your brother company at least." His voice was gruff and kind, and Dean felt a warmth kindle inside him that he hadn’t felt since before. Since his life with his dad and mom and little baby Sammy.

Dean hesitated, glancing once again after the Master. The man was not in sight, but that didn't mean that he wouldn’t find out what Dean had been doing. He had ways. Suddenly in a panic, Dean had the overwhelming urge to run. Just, get out of there...but Sammy had turned to watch them now, his eyes questioning, and he couldn’t. So Dean steeled himself and nodded.

"Good," Grange said, smiling warmly, before leading him up to the target.  
The man placed a knife in Dean’s hand, showed him how to hold it underhand and backed away as Dean got ready to throw.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. 

The knives hit wood and Grange let out a little laugh. "Not suited? You're a natural!" He seemed to think for a moment, and then turned to Dean again. "Hey, look, it seems the Ring Master wants Sam to be my assistant but, why don't you come and train with him after your practice?"

"I can't..." Dean bit his lip. "The Master wouldn't like it, sir..."

"We'll do it in secret then. In my private trailer. No one has to know."

Dean smiled weakly as Sam started throwing again.


	2. Chapter 2

The cool shower water gushed over Dean's head and down his back, firm from several years of training and crisscrossed with the flaming lines of the whipping he had received a few minutes ago. A tear escaped his eye and blended with a stream running down his face.

He couldn't understand why he always messed up when the Master came to check up on his practice. He always seemed to do well when the man wasn’t there; he was a quick learner and hardly made any mistakes, but something always went wrong when the Master came to watch. Dean would suddenly hear that taunting voice and evil laugh in his mind, and would immediately lose his balance. 

It was just one more excuse for the Master to whip him mercilessly, or worse – make him beg for the Master to touch him. Turn him into the slut he always accused him of being. Today was no different. Except, after that promise earlier, he'd been expecting a lot more than just a whipping. 

That thought brought his mind back to Grange and Sam's new job as the man’s assistant. Grange had actually seemed decent - something Dean had not seen in a long time. He couldn't trust any of the other circus members; they all seemed to be watching him and Sam from the corner of their eyes, eager to tell on them at the first opportunity. But from the way Grange had looked at the Master, Dean thought that the man might even be able to offer Sam some protection. He hoped so. He’d finally reached his limit, and he could really do with some help. Besides, Grange hadn't touched Dean or Sam except to teach them how to throw the knives. Maybe, just maybe, he'd take Grange up on that offer to teach him too. 

Suddenly, the door into the small shower cubicle banged open. Whirling around at the noise, Dean came face to face with the Master's chest, and its matted tangles of curly black hair. Before he could react, the Master slammed him against the wall with one hand, holding him there as he let the shower stream run down his thick, hairy body. After a few minutes, the Master released Dean and turned off the shower before reaching over to grab the soap and lather his hands.

"Did you think you'd get off with just a whipping, boy? Today’s a very special day. Five years I've waited, but I've spared you long enough. It's time to live up to your full responsibilities." The Master's eyes turned completely black, piercing Dean's soul, as a slow, evil grin spread over the man’s face. "Turn around and put your hands on the wall."

Heart in his throat, Dean turned around and placed his hands on the cold plastic wall of the shower. All was silent except for the sound of the Master soaping up his hands. Then, out of nowhere, Dean felt the Master's hand between his legs, one of the man’s fingers gliding up from the base of his balls and sliding between his ass cheeks. As Dean jerked in surprise, the Master slammed his shoulders against the wall, growling at him to keep still, and proceeded to slide his big hand through his legs again, this time caressing his balls and dick and covering them with lather before sweeping his finger back up his ass. Each time, the Master played with the tight sensitive skin of Dean's hole just a little bit, making Dean gasp and squirm.

"Ahhh... you love that," the Master growled. "Say it!"

"I love it, Sir," Dean sobbed. 

The slow and taunting assault continued - the finger wedging itself deeper and deeper, caressing his inner walls and covering them with the slippery soap lather. The overwhelming urge to push the alien object out gradually turned into a desperate need for more. And the man knew it. It seemed like he knew everything Dean thought. But instead of giving Dean what he wanted, he just pulled out his finger and played with Dean’s entrance. "What do you say, bitch? You dirty little thing. I won't let you have it until..."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please put it back."

"Put what back..."

"Your...your finger, Sir...please..." 

The Master laughed as he slowly pushed it back in.

Soon he had two fingers inside Dean, working in a third and Dean didn't want it to stop. But suddenly, the fingers were gone and something big and hard and slippery from soap was pushing at the entrance to his hole. Horror welled up inside of him and a sob escaped his lips. No way was that huge dick going to fit inside him. No way at all. But there was nothing he could do but wait with dread as the Master's big dick pushed against his sensitive hole.

"You’re mine, boy. You’re a nobody. A slut and a whore, and you’re mine to do with as I please. And now I own you completely. Body and soul. Unless you'd like me to dump you for your brother of course. He does have such a cute little ass of his own..."

"No!" Dean shouted. "No, sir. I’m yours." 

A sharp bark of laughter echoed around the shower stall, and then the hard, slippery dick was slowly pushing into him. Dean cried out and struggled to get away, hot pain consuming him, but the Master had him pressed too firmly against the wall and he couldn’t squirm free as the man slowly pushed his way inside.

"Say it again," he growled, holding Dean fast against him. 

Dean had to fight to regain some semblance of thought before he answered, "I’m yours, Sir" 

"Yes, you are." 

Dragging his dick out, the Master slammed it back into him. In and out, in and out, until Dean's mind blacked out everything else. Even his voice as he cried out and begged sounded distant and alien to him. Then gradually the pain gave way to something else as the Master hit a spot inside him that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through him. And before he realized what he was doing, Dean was moving his hips in the hope of feeling that sensation one more time. 

The Master grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to bite painfully at his ear, bringing Dean crashing back to reality. What was he doing? Fresh tears sprang to Dean's eyes, but the Master just laughed and continued the assault. "Such a dirty little slut. What would you do without your Master? This is what you were meant to be, boy. " 

As he spoke, the Master reached his arm around and grabbed Dean’s dick, dragging his soapy hand down it as he bit Dean's shoulder. "You want it, bitch? Then you have to ask nicely."

So Dean begged even as he cried. And the Master let him have it - pounding into him until Dean’s orgasm swept through him and the Master came inside him, spilling his seed.

As come trickled down Dean's legs, the Master washed himself off in the shower and laughed. "Now everyone will know that you’re mine, bitch. You think that knife thrower’s not going to be able to tell? He's going to take one look at you and know what a slut you are. " 

And with that he left, leaving Dean alone to slowly crumple into a heap on the floor and weep as the shower rained down on him. His insides were jelly, like he had been ripped open from the inside out, and that evil man's essence seemed to course through his body and stain him with something that a shower could never wash away. The fact that he had actually enjoyed it filled him with self-loathing and despair.

"Dean?" a small voice called at the entrance to the stall. "Dean, are you in here?"

Dean stopped crying immediately and scrambled to his feet. "Yeah, Sammy. I'm here." He hastily wiped his face in the shower and turned it off, glancing around the cubicle for any sign of what had happened. Of course, there was nothing...except for his back, of course. The whipping already felt like it had happened ages ago. 

Taking a deep breath, he turned to open the door…just as it opened from the outside. Sam was staring up at Dean with a worried look on his face. 

"What's wrong? You were taking so long to come back, I came to see what you were doing."

Dean forced a laugh. "Nothing, Sammy. Can't a guy take a nice long shower for once? Hey, bring me that towel and my clothes will ya," he said, waving a hand in their direction and making sure to keep his back hidden from Sam's eyes. When Sam handed them over, he added, "Wait for me outside, alright?" 

The second Sam was out the door, Dean closed it and leaned his forehead against it, swallowing down his nausea. Then with shaking hands, he wiped his body, his stinging back helping to keep his head clear. Keep him focused, like he needed to be - Sam was there. He needed Dean to be strong. 

Once dry, he quickly covered everything with his t-shirt and jeans, took a deep breath and opened the door with a smile.


End file.
